One Too Many
by RaichelOlin
Summary: "She knew she would probably get hit for this, but she did it anyway." Have you ever wondered what goes on inside Ares' temple, where no one can see? Well fifteen year old Clarisse knew all too well. It wasn't pretty. Warning: Contains abuse.


Note: the Percy Jackson Franchise and its characters all belong to Rick Riordan.

Note: The following story contains swearing, all of which is uttered by an adult and directed at his child, it also contains the physical, verbal, and sexual abuse of a child by their parent.

 **Blood, Booze, and Bruises**

"Where's my girl?" asked the man, "Where's my girl?"

The teenager winced slightly at his words, the man was obviously drunk, slurring his speech and swaying as he walked.

But she didn't let that fool her, the alcohol in his body didn't affect his strength at all, he wasn't human after all.

"Oh there you are, girl." the man slurred. "My little warrior, my little drakon slayer."

The teen stared at him for a moment before responding, "Father," was all she said.

"That I am. Father of over four thousand children."

"Currently?"

The man chuckled slightly. "Foolish child, most of them are dead, and in forty years time you will be too."

"Thank you, father."

"Don't mention it, I have you to thank for making me the father of the cabin that wouldn't help until the last minute, after they followed some little traitor b*tch from aphrodite."

"She wasn't a traitor, father,"

"Maybe not, but she did look like you, Rosalynn, same hair, same height, similar figures, if you know what I mean." He smiled.

"No, frankly I don't. I'm not Rosalynn either, Rosalynn's my mother."

"And you look as much like her as you did Aphrodite's b*tch...it's the figure." the man drunkenly traced the female figure in the air.

"Her name was Silena." The fifteen year old stated, unsure of what else to say.

"You're as beautiful as Silena was."

Silena was beautiful, that was true, but the man had never said anything to suggest that Rosalynn's daughter was beautiful too.

"Are you okay, father?"

"Okay. I feel fantastic…" He slurred. "I could kiss you, Charlotte."

"It's Clarisse."

"Well Clarisse, I'm Ares." He pointed to himself and smiled drunkenly.

"Well hello, Ares."

The man laughed. "I could kiss you."

Clarisse laughed nervously, she wasn't sure he was joking.

The man smiled, reaching out to pull her to her feet. Despite his intoxication he was able to easily pull her up by the arms.

He looked down at her and grinned.

Clarisse winced, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She'd never drank a day in her life but because of him she knew and how could she not, she'd been smelling it for five long years, maybe even longer.

He backed her up against the wall.

Clarisse braced herself for what she knew was coming, but five years had told her that no matter what she did it would still hurt.

She was not expecting what happened next. He leaned in so close that his foul breath was all she could smell and kissed her, not on the forehead, or the cheek, but on the lips.

He'd never done that before, his tongue was in her mouth. Even her boyfriend didn't do that, and she was glad that he didn't, it was gross.

Was this what liquor tasted like, if it was she never wanted it. Or maybe it was just Ares' lack of dental hygiene. Either way she hated it.

She knew she would probably get hit for this, but she did it anyway, she bit his tongue.

"Hey." He explained. He pulled away slightly. He gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him, he was well over a foot taller than her. "How would you feel if I bit your tongue, huh."

Clarisse said nothing.

He smacked her across the face.

What a surprise, it was only around the hundredth time, but it still hurt, it always did.

He didn't hit her again, instead he merely ran his hands over her clothed body. Running his hands over her chest, stomach, and below the waist, jeans and shirt alike, feeling her female form. She hated it. "Stop." she said.

At first he didn't listen.

"Stop it." Clarisse screamed, kicking Ares in the shin.

The olympian backed up slightly, an angry expression on his face, but at least he'd stopped. "Well then, you could have just said no."

Clarisse felt more betrayed than ever before. Shouldn't he have already known the answer was no?

Ares went over to his mini -fridge and grabbed another beer. He sat down in a chair and downed the bottle in less than half a minute. Too afraid to say anything, Clarisse just watched.

Ares stared at her clearly unhappy with her gaze. He tossed the bottle in went right past her head, hit the wall, and shattered into a dozen or so jagged pieces.

"You were supposed to catch it." He responded. "You know what happens when you fail, right?"

She figured what would happen, but said nothing.

Ares undid his belt, he didn't normally do that. She didn't want to know what he would do next, but she couldn't help but think about it as he cracked his belt against the air like a whip. Clarisse winced doubting that he'd be whipping horses.

"Get your *ss over here, girl." Ares said, anger evident in his tone. "Now."

She obeyed.

Ares pulled her jacket off and tossed it to the floor. He gripped the outside of each of her arms and lifted her up, then laid her stomach down on the table.

She tried to prepare herself to be hurt, but truthfully you can't prepare to be hurt. If you somehow manage to it won't matter, it will still hurt

Clarisse felt the searing pain of the leather belt turned whip was brought down on her back over and over again, with enough strength to cut through her shirt and the skin beneath it. She tried to stifle her cries of pain, but ended up letting out a small, "ow."

Ares slammed the belt against the table, Clarisse flinched.

"You're nothing but a big, baby. You hear me." He roughly shoved her off the table. She hit the ground on her side and fell to her stomach.

"You hear me, a whimp!"

She could hear Ares redoing his belt, which only relieved her a little bit. She'd never been whipped before, and hoped that she never was again, but she knew better than to hope didn't she.

Ares kicked her in the hip, her body shifted from the force.

"Get up you little B*tch!" Ares bellowed, it wasn't the first time he'd called her that.

Clarisse got to her feet as fast as she could. She knew what would happen if she didn't. She did her best to stabilize herself.

The first blow came quickly, a punch to the stomach. It was soon followed by another punch to the stomach, this time to a different area. This went on for a while, a punch to the arm. A punch to the other arm. A punch to the thigh. Another punch to the stomach. Over and over again.

Some people say that after a while you get used to it and stop feeling the pain. Those people are liars. Every blow still hurts whether its the first or ten-thousandth. Whether it's happened for a day, or ten years. You might get used to it but it will never stop hurting. Every blow is a new betrayal.

Each blow shot pain through Clarisse's body and threatened to cause her to fall over. Yet she remained standing.

"Ah so weaklings can be strong when they want to be." Ares said after a while. " But it doesn't matter, you're still a pathetic little girl."

He grabbed her by the arms and shook her. "Do you understand?!"

She was too afraid to do anything but stare. Ares released one of her arms and used his now free hand to smack her upside the head. "Stupid girl."

" _Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me."_ said the biggest liar in the history of the world, words do hurt, just as much as sticks, and stones, and fists, and feet do.

All of Ares invective actually hurt more than any of the injuries he'd caused. At least the physical injuries healed, the words left deep scars.

"Are you going to say something, moron?" Ares taunted. "Of course not, you're too scared. Coward."

Clarisse said nothing, he was right.

"Ah, cowards never amount to anything, say something." Ares held, pacing around her.

Finally she mustered up some courage and questioned, "Why are you doing this?"

Ares smiled, still pacing. "You make me do this, girl."

He always said that, when she was younger, she had believed him. As a ten, eleven, twelve and even thirteen year old, she'd thought that if she behaved and pleased her father, then he wouldn't hurt her. But know she realised it wouldn't matter.

He was behind her one arm across her collarbones holding her against his chest. She could feel his breathing against her back. His head was at over her shoulders, chin digging in.

He took his other hand and started punching her in the ribs, saying a word each time. "Coward." "Failure." "Weakling." "Idiot." "Moron." "Loser." "Baby." "Bastard." "Ugly." " Pig." "Whimp." "Useless." "Pathetic." "Slut." "B*tch." "C*nt."

Sixteen words for sixteen punches, all to the ribs. Sixteen punches for sixteen years on earth.

When Ares was done he pushed her, she fell to the ground stomach down. She slowly and with much pain, got herself to her feet.

He didn't even let her stand. he pushed her right down again. She fell flat on her back. That was when he delivered the most painful blow of all.

Ares kicked the fifteen year old in the groin. Clarisse cringed.

It hurt a lot. Whoever said that girls couldn't be hurt there was a liar. It definitely hurt, not just physically, but also emotionally, Clarisse had never felt so betrayed.

"You really are pathetic." Ares spat.

Laying there Clarisse knew exactly why Are was doing this, because he could.


End file.
